Both Sides
by RhondaStar
Summary: Based on PD2 film. My take on what happened after Clarisse turned down Joe's proposal.


_**Tears and fears and feeling proud, to say 'I Love You' right out loud.**  
  
_Both Sides

"Fuck!!!"  
  
"Fuck, fuck, fuck. God damn it you idiot." Joseph kicked whatever stood in front of him, a chair, a coffee table, the edge of his bed before throwing himself onto it. "You idiot."  
  
The room stood silent around him, looming in, swirling around his mind.  
  
His head continually thudded, a deep resonating pulse. He needed air but couldn't go outside afraid he might bump into her again. Oh her, that woman, why must it be her, why must he wait his entire life to find somebody, that somebody that grabbed at his soul and tore it apart and it be her, somebody he could never have.  
  
He should have known better, he should have thought it through, of course she would say no – of course! Why would she sacrifice everything she's ever worked for to be with him, who was he anyway?  
  
By this point in his life he should have known better, in fact probably did, but he poured himself a large whisky anyway and downed it before pouring another. He would take a bath; he would take a bath and try to calm down.

* * *

Clarisse closed her eyes for just a second but it turned out to be a second too long because the tears filled her eyes before her brain could prevent them. She swallowed and took a deep breath willing them back. She mustn't cry here anybody could see her.  
  
Turning quickly she fled the ballroom and headed for her suite, dismissing Olivia – perhaps a little too harshly – she made it to the bathroom before a sob escaped her lips. She'd lost him, she'd pushed him away and lost him and she was alone again. Struggling to breath and stop crying she turned on the cold water and splashed her face.  
  
The mirror was unforgiving as she dabbed at her face with a towel, she looked old, she looked terribly old. "Oh god, oh god..."

* * *

The water was far too hot and the fact he was drinking didn't help soothe his senses. Tomorrow would be a bad day, his head wouldn't forgive this torture, but then maybe the physical pain would numb the heart somewhat.  
  
He hated her; he hated her for being too damn cowardly to see past their roles to what they could have. He hated her for drawing him in with discreet smiles and a hand resting on his arm. For the way she would dance with him when nobody was about and sway her body against his so seductively. For sharing her inner thoughts with him and leading him to believe he meant more to her than casual acquaintance, more than just a worker.  
  
But he loved her and if she were here now... then this pain would end. Right now it was only she who could soothe the hurt away. He longed to be near her again, to take back whatever had been said that caused this separation. Just to see her beautiful face, to have her smile at him and those eyes strip him of every negative feeling.  
  
She'd rested her head on his chest, she'd sighed, for a moment she'd simply been his and it had spurred him on. If only he'd given her longer to think about it – but no that wouldn't change things, nothing would. The basic root of their problems was she just wasn't willing to ease off from her strict role, her duty. "Damn duty Clarisse!!! And damn you." He shouted downing the rest of his whisky.

* * *

At the other side of the palace Clarisse similarly lay in her bathtub lamenting, only there was no drink in her hand, no curses on her lips, just tears. She was exhausted, crying did that, the heat and steam combined with her sobbing had drained her completely.  
  
It was obvious to her now; in fact it had been clear to her for many years now that she was in love. She'd never been in love before, not like this, she'd had crushes as a teenager and then thrown into marriage and love never came. Affection, respect, friendship yes but not love like this. Just a smile from Joseph could lift her spirits, having him close by made her secure, and not because she knew he would protect her to the death but because his presence made anything bearable. And he would look at her with such a depth of adoration, would actually speak to her as a person, not a royal, not somebody on a higher plain – to him she was Clarisse.  
  
What would she do now? Who would she turn to for comfort and advice? He was never afraid to tell her exactly what he thought; he'd done it again tonight. When he'd pulled away from her that first time she clawed at his arm in some desperate attempt to get him to stay and his eyes, such heartbreak in his eyes. She'd caused that. What had he said to her, 'someone to spend the rest of my life with,' she wanted that too, lord how she wanted that. She was tired of sleeping alone, tired of being alone.  
  
With quite some effort she forced herself to get out of the tub and cease this relentless crying. She was too old for this behaviour, of course she should know better.

* * *

Maybe he was being selfish, the thought had occurred to him several times now. He was selfish, guilt crept over him like darkness, he took the bottle of whisky and poured it down the sink. He hadn't drunk like this in years and he wasn't about to let it take him over. He needed to be on form right now, Mia's wedding, the threat to the crown. "The crown's emotions." To hell with it all, after this he was out, it was too much now even for his strong will.

* * *

It was late, the palace was still and silent Clarisse liked it this way. Everything in its place, everything smart and clean and organised. She'd worked so hard over the years to get it this way, to build it up, they were a small country but they had respect. After Rupert had died she strived to maintain this standard and when Philippe... when he died she'd almost lost it, she could feel it slipping it from her fingers, could feel hope disappearing but throughout it all Joseph had remained a constant. She'd gripped his hand more than once before venturing out into the public sphere, before stepping out of a car or hosting some ball.  
  
When she found herself outside his room she wasn't entirely shocked, it wasn't that far from hers, close for security reasons – was that it? The halls were empty, no guard outside his door, she lifted her hand and rested her knuckles against the polished door. One knock that was all it would take, just one, and he'd be there and she would ask for forgiveness and go to him and hold him and love him and then... And then she wouldn't know what to do the following day or the one after that, she would have to consider him in every decision she made, she would have to put such shaky things as feelings ahead of duty. Ahead of her country, serve the country Clarisse, was that what her Mother had told her, she always had. Hell she'd had two children by a man she wasn't even attracted to if that wasn't service what was.  
  
Her hand dropped to her side and she set off down the hall, it was better this way wasn't it. Easier.

* * *

For the past hour Joseph had stared at the ceiling, studied every line, each decorative plasterwork on every corner. He was going mad, slowly... and how his chest ached, heavy and laden. "I wanted you so badly." When he closed his eyes the scene went over and over in his mind, her refusal, he knew why, he understood she knew nothing else. Her entire life had been that way, how could he change forty odd years of service. How did he have the right to try? She was the Queen, she was his Queen. Nothing would ever change that.  
  
He'd wait until the wedding was over, until Mia was crowned Queen and then he'd retire completely, not just as head of security but from palace life. He'd saved enough over the years and he knew Clarisse would fix something for him, "So many years of dedication" he thought wryly to himself. Is that what she'd put on the card? He could take himself off and travel, relax and enjoy the views of the world. And if he happened to meet some pretty lady who wanted to share his company for a night then who was he to refuse, it wasn't as if he was cheating on her. Too long he'd relied on his heart to guide him, it was time for sense to return and take control. Otherwise he was never going to get through the next few weeks, what the hell was he supposed to do if he stayed, spend the rest of his days pining for her and watching from a distance? No way. He'd overstepped the line they'd so carefully began to negotiate, there would be no more secluded dances, no more kissing her hand, no going back now. It was time to let go.  
  
He missed her already.

* * *

Down in the kitchen Clarisse sat sipping her tea. She knew the chefs had taken in her rather drained appearance and were probably speculating. She hoped they would put it down to fatigue and wedding planning rather than the truth. The regal part of her would sit there and enjoy the warmth of the room in silence, just sit alone, stiff and formal. The other side wanted to stand up and scream her heart was breaking, but she wouldn't do that, she wouldn't speak to anyone about it.  
  
In less than a month Mia would not only be married but also Queen and Clarisse was very aware of how her role would change. Nobody would think less of her, nobody would treat her any differently but she'd be the advisor now, not the centre. She wasn't jealous; it was just another shift in her life. But without Rupert, without Philippe and with Pierre away travelling so much she would be very much alone. She had Mia, but the girl was going to be Queen, so young and all that responsibility on her shoulders, Clarisse knew very well just how much time was going to be taken away from her.  
  
Her thoughts were interrupted by Mia's ladies maids skipping into the room, she smiled stiffly at them, smiling didn't come easy tonight, and was about to excuse herself when a loud bang startled her. They launched into their rather bizarre routine, to say the least, and as always the diplomat she thought of a suitable response for the strange display before quickly exiting the room and heading for bed.  
  
Sleep wouldn't come easy tonight; she couldn't get Joseph's words out of her head. The longing to be near him was unbearable yet she was acutely aware how difficult facing him tomorrow was going to be. There would be no room for discreet conversations and private smiles anymore, he wanted more than she could give – or was prepared to. She didn't have the right to expect him to stand around waiting for her, to give her so much of himself and in return get so very little. Her answer had been no, which meant that from now on there would be little personal contact between them, strictly business.  
  
How she missed him already.


End file.
